


Entomology

by levele3



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Deciption, F/M, Fairy!Marianne, Falling In Love, Gen, Human!Bog, Midsummer Night's Dream, Multi, Princess Marianne - Freeform, References to Shakespeare, Tiny people AU, butterfly bog, glamour
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2018-09-21 14:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9552041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levele3/pseuds/levele3
Summary: Bog King is a university professor with a degree in Entomology. During Summer vacation, and after a terrible breakup Bog finds himself drawn to his family's fields where he had spent his childhood and discovered his love of insects. He is shocked to discover, after all these years, what he had always assumed to be butterflies were in fact Fairies!Fairy Princess Marianne finds herself falling in love with a human.





	1. Prologue: Not a Butterfly

**Author's Note:**

> Re-Posted from Tumblr

en·to·mol·o·gy

ˌen(t)əˈmäləjē/

_noun_

 

  1. the branch of zoology concerned with the study of insects.




***

Princess Marianne of the Faeries had been watching the human come to her field for months now, ever since the last of the Winter snows melted and her kingdom had emerged from hibernation. At first he, for she had discovered the human was the male of his species, had come alone, but for many weeks now he had brought a companion. She, her sister Dawn and their Elf friend Sunny had stumbled across the happy couple by accident one day when flying through the field in a bid to escape a very angry lizard.

Dawn and Sunny had lost interest after a few times of seeing them but Marianne was absolutely fascinated by the strange beings. The humans were both similar and different to Faeries. She had immediately felt a kinship with the human taking an ownership of him as she had nothing else. When she thought of him, which was often; she thought of him as “My Human” and the female companion as _his_ mate.

Today her human had come alone again. At first she watched him from afar waiting for the female to appear but she never came. The human stretched out his long form, like a fallen tree and lay down in the grass. Her burning need for adventure and curiosity that could not be satisfied had Marianne moving closer. Maybe if he fell asleep she could examine him closer. She fluttered between the Primroses closer and closer to her destination.

***

Bog King had been having a terrible few days. After almost a year of talking to a girl online they had finally decided to meet in person. That had been back in May it was now Mid-July. Things had been going great, so great in fact it was only a matter of time before he royally fucked up and fuck up he did. In a moment of impetuousness he _fucking_ proposed. He was such a dunce. Apparently what they’d been doing wasn’t ‘dating’ but just ‘hanging out.’ She quickly explained she wasn’t interested in him in that way and that was it. As quickly as she had come into his life she was gone. Leaving him sad and alone yet again, only this time he wouldn’t be played for the fool. This time he would make sure to never fall in love again.

Returning to the field wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be. They had spent so many carefree afternoons here Bog had been afraid he wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of it. The truth was though the field had been _his_ before it was _theirs_ so returning alone felt like coming home in a strange way. The field was full of shady trees, little streams, and a variety of flowers as far as the eye could see. The most wonderful thing though was the butterflies. The butterflies were a calming presence every time he saw them his heart gave a little flutter of joy especially the strange purple one. Insects had always captivated him that’s why he’d become an entomologist but in all his years of study he’d never come across one like that before.

Bog closed his eyes as he lay in the field soaking in the rays of the afternoon sun, his face shaded by the winding branches of an oak. He scratched absently at his rough cheek now covered with two day old stubble then swatted at his beaky nose as he felt a bug land there. It worked for a minute but the bug returned and he rubbed at his nose again shooing the little pest away. When he felt something settle against his nose for a third time Bog opened his eyes and was surprised to see his little purple butterfly. The broad wings lay out brushing his cheek ever so slightly.

“Well hello there” he rumbled, going cross eyed to look at the fragile creature.

He suddenly went very still the thing on his nose was _not_ a butterfly. It had arms that lay crossed over the bridge of his nose and a tiny head rested on those little arms. It smiled at him and big hazel eyes stared back at him.

“Hello” it said back, and he fainted.


	2. 1: Just a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King's neighbour is not what he seems.

When Bog woke up it was dark out and the moon was just starting its accent into the mid-summer sky. _Shite_ , his mother would probably be worried sick about him. In his haste to leave he sat up too quickly and found himself clutching at the back of his head, he must have been sleeping on a root he thought. Then he remembered the strange happenings of the afternoon; the little face smiling at him. A dream, he thought shaking his head, it was just a dream, he’d already been asleep when the whole encounter took place.  

He had thoroughly convinced himself by the next morning the whole thing never happened when he suddenly asked his mother an unbelievable question.  

Bog was part way through his full breakfast of toast, eggs, and sausage when the question just slipped out.

“Mah, do you believe in faeries?” Bog almost choked on his own tea so shocked the question came out at all.

“Do I need to tell ya the story of how I met yer father again?” Griselda asked, shaking her wooden spoon vaguely in her son’s direction.  

“No mah” Bog began to protest.  

His mother swore up and down faeries were present when she’d met Bog’s father. She would still get a faraway dreamy look in her eyes when thinking about it.  

“It was Beltane night, and the stars were out, not a cloud in the sky” Griselda began wistfully. “I had snuck out of the house to attend an unauthorised party that was being held in the fields.”

“Mah, I didnae want to hear aboot it” Bog growled in frustration, interrupting the would be mushy, romantic story, that led to his eventual conception.

“Then why did you ask?” his mother retorted turning around to admonish him.  

Her eyes gleamed with bright mischief upon fully taking in her son’s appearance. His sunken eyes, hair still pleasantly rumpled from sleep, his pajamas hanging loose off his awkward frame. It was his eyes that gave him away though, they had a far-away look to them.

“You saw one” she said, faint awe lacing her voice, “my boy has the gift!” Griselda cried in triumph.  

“I didnae see one” Bog protested growling, then more quietly, “I don’t know what I saw.”  He furrowed his brow in concentration but their conversation was cut short when a vicious rap came at the kitchen door.

The closest neighbour to the King’s was old Farmer Dell, Glen Dell, a crotchety old man if ever there was one. The old man leaned heavily on his gnarled walking stick as he waited for Bog to get up and open the door. Bog could see where in his youth the farmer had been tall and proud but was now bent with age, his pointed chin tucked against his chest. Bog was sure if the old man could stand straight he’d surpass even Bog’s height.  

“S’not polite ta keep an old man waitin’, _boy_ ” Dell grumbled once Bog had opened the little kitchen door. Despite his already hunched stature the farmer had to duck still to get through. His thin lips instantly pulled into a deep frown.

Bog loathed the aged farmer who still referred to him as “boy” even though he was a grown man of 36. For some reason beyond him his mother tolerated their elderly neighbour.

“Glen” Griselda cried, “what brings you all the way over here.” Her voice was a mixture of genuine curiosity and a mother’s admonishment.

It _was_ quite a hike from Dell’s land which was on the other side of the patch of trees that bordered their own fields. He wasn’t even short of breath Bog thought.  

“Could use a drink o’ water” the farmer growled.

Bog reluctantly went through the motions of filling up a glass with water while the old man made a show of taking a seat at their tiny kitchen table, Bog grinded his teeth the whole time.

“Gonna need yer help boy” Farmer Dell grumbled, after swishing down his water. “In the field” he clarified.  

Bog resisted the urge to groan aloud. Despite the size of his property Famer Dell only had two, in Bog’s opinion _useless_ , farmhands and Bog was often called upon to help with even the simplest of tasks, when he was home and not at the university.  

“I’ll go get changed then” was Bog’s rough reply. It bordered on rude and earned him a stern look from his mother. Bog turned his head and with a sigh abandoned his half eaten breakfast to put on some more work appropriate clothes.  

As soon as Bog was gone from the room Griselda spoke in a low and worried tone, “Are you going to tell him soon?”

“Tell ‘em what?” Dell growled, his lips pulled back in a sneer, revealing very crooked and yellowed teeth.

“You know perfectly well what I mean,” Griselda spoke quickly in a hissy whisper in hopes Bog wouldn’t overhear their conversation. “He was asking me ‘bout fairies this mornin’ _and_ he was late getting’ in last night.”

“He’s a young man now Grisy, o’ course he was late getting in. Only natural.” Dell grumbled, a lecherous twinkle to his eye.

“Bog’s not like that” Griselda said defensively, suddenly cold towards Dell. She turned her back to him and continued washing up the breakfast dishes.

With a sigh, Dell rose from the table with youthful ease and gently placed his weathered hands on Griselda’s shoulders.  

“How’ve you been, my love?” he whispered roughly against her ear.

Griselda instantly melted at the old familiar touch that still managed to spark a flame within her. He knew just what to say, _and how to say it_ , to pull her out of a bad mood.

She turned around and let Glen embrace her tightly, pulling her close and burrowing his long sharp nose against her cheek.

“I’ve missed you, Glen” Griselda sighed, inhaling his woodland scent.  

She tilted her head back and looked up into his bright blue eyes, eyes that appeared decades younger than the deeply lined face they inhibited. Griselda brought up her hand and rubbed it down his rough cheek.

“Show me” she whispered, “Show me the man I fell in love with.”

Instantly the years melted away, each caress revealed smooth, unscarred skin. Her thumb brushed against his pointed chin and he shuddered at the touch. It hurt that they couldn’t be together. But as the King of the Dark Forest, Dell would be seen as weak and vulnerable if it were to become known he’d taken a mortal lover, even worse they’d produced a bairn.  

Griselda envied Glen and his magic, if only she could turn back the clock to a time when she’d been younger. Griselda King might not be much to look at now, a squat woman on the wrong side of middle-aged with frizzy red hair that was taking it’s time turning white. Griselda had never been other people’s idea of thin, but in her youth she had been quite the looker with long, curling fiery red hair and an indomitable spirt to match. She had been curvy in all the right places and caught many a stray eye.  

It was true, in part what she had told Bog about the night she met his father. The Folk had not only been present that night in the fields, but it was their party she had attended. It was one of the few times, she learned, that both the Folk of the Field and Forest celebrated together, a show of good faith to uphold their long and uneasy truce. Griselda had been drawn to the faerie lights she could see from her bedroom window and the sound of the exotic music called to something in her heart, had her dancing out the door.  

It was early spring, May Eve, 1979 and Griselda King was only seventeen years-old, a young and beautiful flower that had bloomed and was ripe for the picking. The dark and brooding King of the Forest had been ensnared by the young woman from his first glace. The dark King had a dark plan and decided to use this _beautiful creature_ as his vessel. But what started out as lust was quick to transform into love, true love in fact, the King could not believe his own weapon was to be used against him in such a way.  

“Ah’ll tell him when the time is right” the King replied, stepping away from his lover.  

Griselda felt cold at the sudden lack of contact but tried hard not to let it show. Winning the favour of an otherwise emotionless King had left her craving a more stable relationship.

Bog thumped his way down the back staircase that lead directly into the kitchen to show his displeasure about having to go and help the ungrateful old man. It almost hopped the two farmhands, Stuff and Thang weren’t present, Bog could work faster than both of them together.  

Farmer Dell was waiting by the door, leaning heavily on his walking stick, and glamoured once more. The King made a very convincing eighty-year-old mortal.  

“Ready to put in a hard day’s work, _boy_?” Dell mocked.  

“Aye” was Bog’s short reply, after all, he didn’t have much of a choice.


	3. 2: Tiny Dancer

Bog was mesmerized by the tiny dancer in his hand. She twirled across his palm and spun around his fingers.  

 _Marianne_.

It had been two weeks since Bog first returned to the field and he still couldn’t believe that what he had always believed to be butterflies were in fact faeries. His mother had always been a staunch believer in the _Folk_ but Bog had stopped years ago. To find out that something he had long thought to be make-believe was real made Bog question what else existed. Even more unbelievable was that he currently held the Princess of said Field in his hand.

She gave a vigorous giggle before plopping down cross-lagged in his palm.

“Do you know what today is, Bog?” Marianne asked with another girlish squeal. 

“Ah, no” Bog said looking at her in awe.

“It’s Lammas! There is going to be a ball and everything! Oh, I can’t wait!” her joy was infectious, and Bog found himself smiling at her enthusiasm.  

His initial return to the field had been delayed by Glen Dell who seemed to call on Bog and his mother more frequently than in Summer’s past making ever stranger requests of Bog. At last though he had gotten a free afternoon to himself and grabbing his sketch book, bravely returned to the field where he’d met the butterfly that could speak. 

She had appeared to him again and this time Bog was quite pleased to say he didn’t faint. Since then they had formed a strange relationship, each of them just as interested and fascinated in the other’s customs. Bog, who was used to paying close attention to small details, due to the nature of his work now had a sketchbook full of detailed drawings of the tiny princess.

Her gold tinted eyes alighted with surprise and the intensity startled him.

“You _must_ come, Bog!” Marianne said in hushed awe, so amazed she was with her own idea.

Why hadn’t she thought of it before? Her tiny heart leapt at the idea. Oh, she had it bad. Admiring the human from afar had been one thing, and if her father had found out about _that_ he would no doubt have forbade it, but now she was actually talking to him. Marianne had only ever been in love once before and it had ended in disaster. But this felt completely different, the racing of her pulse and the burning of her cheeks made her feel lightheaded, and if this is what love felt like, real love, she never wanted it to fade!

She flopped back and spread her wings so they covered the width of Bog’s hand, her head lay against his middle finger and her feet hit his wrist.

Bog looked over his shoulder and pointed with his other hand, “you claim that bolder is yer castle, aye?” he asked.

“Yes, what of it?” Marianne asked, curious to see where he was going with this.

“How d’ye expect someone of my size to fit in yer wee castle?” Bog asked looking back at her.

He said it in a light, teasing tone but the instant frown that came upon the Princess’s face nearly made his heart break.  

“It’s not that Ah, _umm_ , that is” he stumbled and stuttered over his words. How could he possibly attend a faery ball? Even if there was a way to make him her size (which he was sure there wasn’t) he didn’t know the first thing about etiquette at these events. Could he eat the food and not be trapped? Would Marianne want him to dance with her?

“If there was a way, would you?” she asked standing and leaning against his thumb.

Bog had difficulty meeting her eyes but brought his hand up so their faces were on the same level. She was so genuine, so innocent, Bog found it hard to say no. Secretly he knew there would be nothing he would enjoy more than joining Marianne in her revels. 

“Aye, Ah would” he said, his confidence still shaky, but he managed to look Marianne in the eye steady enough. 

“Really?” Marianne’s wings fluttered with excitement she just couldn’t contain and her eyes grew big and dark.

Apparently Bog had said the right thing. She lifted off his hand and hovered in the air inches from his face. 

“Do you mean it Bog? You want to come tonight?” Marianne nervously ran her hand through her already unkempt hair.

Marianne had been singled out among her people as being different and unique, her desire to explore and her unsatisfied need for adventure made her stick out like a sore thumb. She was unable to believe Bog would really want to come to the ball, to willingly spend time with her, not because she was the princess but because he genuinely enjoyed her company. 

Bog wasn’t sure what he was getting himself into. The mischievous gleam in Marianne’s eye had him believing she would find a way to make it work. He had absolutely treasured their time together these past two weeks and he didn’t think he was fooling himself to say she felt the same. When he wasn’t with her he was thinking about her, and it wasn’t just his daytime thoughts she occupied. He had taken to dreaming of her too, sometimes he’d even wake up with- well, never mind that. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, he found himself falling in love with her.

“Aye, Marianne, I wish to come to yer ball.” He said offering her a smile. 

Marianne’s eyes glowed even brighter, her unbridled joy evident with the wide and very real smile she offered him. She flew in close to his face and kissed the tip of his nose.

“Come out here tonight, just after moonrise” Marianne told him, and then with another brilliant flash of a smile she was gone.

Bog sat in the field a moment longer, idly rubbing his nose where she’d pressed her lips.              

A faery ball, he couldn’t believe it! The princess of the field, that had been in his mother’s family for years, had invited him to attend a ball! What was he going to wear?

***

“What am I going to wear?” Marianne shouted, frustrated, pacing around her room as her ever patient sister Dawn sat on the nearby rose bloom bed. 

Dawn rolled her eyes, unsure of where Marianne’s sudden new interest in her appearance had come from. Marianne had changed a lot in the last year but she was still Dawn’s sister. To see Marianne getting all worked up over a guy again was kind of nice. Dawn jumped off the bed and flew to her sister and forcibly grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Marianne, calm down!” Dawn cried out, “Did you really think I wouldn’t be prepared for this?” She asked her sister, raising an eyebrow.

 Marianne took a series of deep calming breaths, “you, you have something I can wear?” she asked, startled. 

“I do” Dawn assured her, giving her sister her brightest smile, “come with me.”

Upon seeing the dress her sister had made Marianne’s jaw dropped, Dawn had outdone herself.

“Dawn” she whispered reverently, “this is, _wow_.”

Marianne found herself utterly speechless. The skirt of the dress was made from the long swooping petals of a dark purple Asiatic lily and the top part in the front was a carpet of lilac star blooms. The dress had a sweetheart neckline and was open in the back to allow Marianne’s wings free movement. The lilac blooms trailed down on to the skirt part of the dress, and formed a sort of bustle in the back. 

“I know” Dawn said, extremely pleased with Marianne’s priceless reaction. 

“Can I try it on now?” Marianne asked, not even caring how overly eager she sounded. 

“Of course!” Dawn can’t contain her joy and rushes to help Marianne change.

The dress fits just like she imagined it would and gives her a flattering figure. The petals are silky soft against her skin and she can’t stop running her hands over her hips.

“Stop fiddling with it Marianne” Dawn chides playfully, “do you want to ruin it before your friend sees you?”

Marianne’s wings spread in alarm, “Bog!” she gasps.

Looking out her sister’s window she can see the sun has begun to set, painting the sky in brilliant colours. Marianne wonders what Bog will think of her dress. _Will he think I look pretty?_ She smiles shyly to herself. What if he didn’t like it? 


	4. 3: Invited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of The Glen King's devious plan comes to light. Bog gets ready for the fairy ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Bog's father to be voiced/ played by Robert Carlyle. I'm using his role from Once Upon a Time as guidelines for his speech.

“You may enter” The Glen King snarled at the closed doors of his throne room.

Two of his bumbling guards tripped over each other to open the doors resulting in one of them getting smacked in the face with said door, when it flew open of its own accord.  

The gilded, glittering, blonde, git waltz into the throne room of the Dark Forest as if he owned it, his prisoner in tow.   

“The Sugar Plum fairy, as requested, Your Majesty” Roland drawled as he swaggered forward, holding out the sprite in question ahead of him.

“Unhand me this instant!” the Sugar Plum fairy demanded as she struggled against the fairy knights grasp.  

The kings’ crooked teeth ground together, and his grip tightened on his royal staff.

“Ah, Plum” the King crooned as if the two beings were old friends, “Ah’m ever so pleased you could be my guest this evening.”  

“And do you treat all your _guests_ with such curtesy?” Plum inquired, side-eyeing the guards, none met her steely gaze. 

The King stood up from his throne, his plated armour clacking and snapping as he did, and strode toward the fairy hostage with a calm purpose.

“The crown princess of the fields has asked a favour of ye, has she not?” he asked.

“That is between me and the princess” Plum said, holding her head high in defiance, locking eyes with the King. 

He smiled a cruel, twisted smile, “Ah’ll be taken’ tha as a yes, then.”

His blue eyes sparkled with mirth.

There was no need to play coy, the wise sprite had an inkling of what the scaly old king was up to. She decided to take a more direct approach.

“The prophecy states-” she began.

“Ah know what the prophecy says” he snarled, cutting her off and leaning down into her face.

“Now, aboot the deal with the princess, she has asked ye to play fairy godmother to a mortal, has she not?” The King straightened once more to his full and intimidating height, the movement followed by an awful cracking noise.  

“Yes, she has, and I won’t be able to do that if I’m locked away!” Sugar Plum snarls back at the King, baring her own teeth. It is a less threating display on the sprite.

“Good, good” he mumbles more to himself than anyone else present.  

“Well, today is yer lucky day, Ah’m giving ye the night off”

Plum raises her brow at him in confusion.

“Allow me to fulfill your obligations, dearie” he explains, “while you get to enjoy my hospitality.”

The sprite tosses her head back and lets loose a high and cruel cackling laugh.

The King snarls in displeasure at her mocking, “Wots a matter dearie, afraid Ah cannea cast a convincing glamour?”

Sugar Plum stops laughing as abruptly as she started.

“What exactly is your angle here, Glen King, I thought you would want to keep the two of them apart?” Plum asked suspiciously.

“Ah need to keep the boy occupied” the King admitted, “besides, the princess likes humans so much, Ah’m sure she won’t mind _being_ one for a few days.”

As the King’s plan began to sink in Plum renewed her struggle to escape, she had to warn them! 

 _Swoosh!_ Plum looked around and realised she was no longer being held by the fairy knight, instead she was trapped in an opaque viscous liquid. A snare! She was trapped in a snare.

“Let me go!” she cried, her voice came out tiny to those who were still big.

The Glen King’s face appeared large and frightening, completely filling up her field of vision.

“Oh, Ah’ll let ye go dearie, first thing in the morning!”

His cackling laugh was the last thing Sugar Plum heard as she was carried away by one of the goblin guards.

“Now” the King said, spreading his arms wide, and addressing his subjects, “who wants to go to a party?”

 ***

Bog paced around his bedroom. He was fresh from the shower clad only in black denim jeans. Several shirts lay out on his bed as potential options for his night out.

Without warning his mother barged through his bedroom door talking a mile-a-minute about something he surely didn’t care about.

“MUM!” he shouted at her intrusion. He could have been naked!

Griselda kept talking nonsense for another minute before she interrupted herself. A manic glee came to her eyes.

“Are ye going out son?” she asked, her eyes wide and hopeful.   

“Aye, Ah’m going out” he said, turning his back to her and pulling a black t-shirt over his head.

When he didn’t elaborate further Griselda prompted him with a clearing of her throat and a semi-stern, “and where is it you are going?”

Griselda wasn’t stupid she knew what tonight was, and Bog _had_ been spending an ever increasing amount of time out in the field. They hadn’t talked any more about The Folk but if Bog really had seen a member of their ilk she was not surprised that he would continue to be drawn back there. 

“Just out” Bog said rather vaguely. 

His tone wasn’t harsh but Griselda instantly felt stung by his words. Bog had always been the sort to tell her exactly where he was going, for how long he’d be there, and when exactly he’d be home. It wasn’t a good sign if he was keeping secrets. Griselda thought about warning him about the dangers of forging relations with The Folk. She almost spilled all the details of the whole sordid affair that had brought about his conception, but she reasoned he didn’t need that kind of burden. Not tonight. 

“Well I hope you have fun” she said, a little stiffly and turned and walked out of his bedroom.

At the door she turned around and Bog stood there facing her, “don’t be too late dear” she said offering him a watery smile. 

Bog felt guilty for only a fraction of a second. He didn’t want his mother to worry about him. He reasoned he was a grown man and could do as he wished. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell his mother where he was going. He just knew she either wouldn’t believe him or try to talk him out of it. 

He sighed deeply and turned to look out his window, the sky was on fire as the sun sunk slowly behind the horizon line of the forest.  It was going to be a beautiful night. 

The bright light of the full moon guided Bog in his trek out to the fields. August brought with it a new scent on the air, that first hint of autumn which to Bog meant returning to the university in the city. He slowed his pace as a cold loneliness creeped through his bones. Return… to the city? How could he? And leave Marianne- the whole experience of his summer behind? 

Bog didn’t want to think about it. Not tonight. Besides he still had a whole month of summer before work would call him back.

“Who goes there?” called out a rough voice in the dark.

Bog looked up startled to discover a hunched and hooded figure standing not ten paces ahead of him, a figure that Bog was sure had not been there a moment before. Its face was hidden within the shadows of a deep cowl, but there was something familiar in its gruff greeting that tickled at Bog’s ears.

“Ah’m Bog” Bog said uncertainly, “Bog King.”

Perhaps it was foolish to use his full name, there was power in names, his mother had always warned. Only tonight it didn’t sound like a name, it sounded like a title.  

A sudden breeze blew across the field on the otherwise windless night ruffling the grass and stirring the dark figure’s cloak.

“Dangerous night ta be out” the voice warned.

“I know what tonight is” Bog said with sudden conviction, “I was invited.”

“Were ye now?” Bog could hear the smirk in the figure’s voice. 

“Step in ta the ring then” The figure stepped aside, leaning heavily on a crooked walking stick, to reveal a large Fairy Ring behind him, perfectly illuminated in the moonlight.   

Bog caught a flash of blue under the creature’s hood as he walked passed it and stepped into the Fairy Ring.

“Now what do I do?” Bog asked as he turned back around, only to find the cloaked figure to be nowhere in sight.

It happened too fast for Bog to comprehend, one moment he was big and everything was normal sized and then like Alice in Wonderland he shrunk. There was an awful twist in his gut, the pain was blinding for a moment and Bog sank to his knees. When he opened them again Bog was lost in the field of grass. He was only slightly taller than some of the mushrooms that outlined the Fairy Ring he had stepped into. 

Bog tried to stand but his legs buckled under him and an unfamiliar weight on his back dragged him down. He dry heaved a few times as his stomach rolled once more.

He rubbed his hand over his abdomen trying to appease the nausea and noticed two things, his hand had become elongated, his fingers longer and thinner than they should be and his skin glowed pearly white in the moonlight, so much for his tan.

The second thing he noticed was that he was no longer wearing his black t-shirt but a vest style tunic of Forget-me-not blue. The shirt flared over his hips and rested around his thighs, it was fastened by loops of green vines that crossed his chest. The collar on the shirt was high, its points catching on his chin. Bog ran his hands down the shirt and realised the shirt wasn’t just the colour of forget-me-nots, it was made of them!

He touched his hands to the side of his head and felt his ears, they too had transformed. He imagined the must look just like Marianne’s, all long and pointed. He began panting heavily. A fairy, he had been transformed into a fairy! In another flash of panic Bog checked in his pants, which were now a material similar to what Marianne wore under her tunic, and breathed a sigh of relief when everything was where it should be. 

A flash of green entered Bog’s peripheral vision and he turned from side to side trying to see what it was. Cautiously Bog reached over his shoulder and felt the softness of the wings that now protruded from his back. Wings! He had wings too! They were the soft luminescent green of a Lunar Moth. He flapped them experimentally and was pleased but also a little leery when he felt himself rise off the ground.  He had wings that worked. He could fly! 

With determination he launched himself into the air, jumping as hard as he could. At first Bog flapped his wings hard and fast, but he soon realized they worked much better if he gave them gentle, leisurely beats. He glided further much faster with every strong beat. Bog quickly got his bearings and soon spotted the bolder Marianne had told him was her castle. He smiled with joy at the sight of it. He had a party to get to.


	5. 4: Good Neighbors

“The Sugar Plum fairy, has anyone seen the Sugar Plum fairy” Marianne asked frantically as she made her way through the crowd.

She needed to find the sprite. Each person Marianne asked shook their head in the negative. No one had seen Sugar Plum for hours; Marianne very well may have been the last one to see her at all. 

It was full dark outside now and Sugar Plum should have already met with Bog to transform him. They should have been here ages ago.  

A thunderous fanfare started up, startling Marianne from her panic; the delegates from the Dark Forest were here! Reluctantly Marianne abandoned her search for Bog and made her way to her father’s side. 

“Smile my dear, smile” the elderly king encouraged.

Marianne offered him a weak smile, all she could manage in her distressed state. What if Bog had decided not to come after all? What if Plum was still waiting for him out in the field?

The king was not as blind as his daughters imagined, he knew something had been on his eldest daughter’s mind for some months now, keeping her from her duties. Now was not the time for lecture.

“Marianne, I know something has you,” the king hesitated before finding the right word, “preoccupied” he settled, “and we will discuss it later, er, if you like.”

Marianne turned to him, her eyes big and bright with surprise, and the king felt his heart still a beat, did she really not believe she could come to him with her worries? The very thought broke his heart.

“Marianne” the king touched his weather hand to his daughter’s cheek, “please know you can come to me with anything. I can see something troubles you, but the whole court of the Dark Forest is here, and we must show them our best hospitality. So for me, just for tonight, please smile.”

His words must have struck a chord for Marianne beamed up at him, the brightest and truest smile he had seen in over a year.

“Yes father” she placated, placing all concern for Bog aside. He would either come or he wouldn’t, what mattered was that she had offered.  

She entered the grand ballroom on the arm of her father, poised and smiling with an easy confidence. Still her eyes glanced side to side for any sign of the Sugar Plum fairy or Bog. 

They stood and waited on a dais by a pair of thrones and turned to watch as the procession of goblins entered, led by their king. Marianne had seen the Glen King before, but the sight of his imposing form never failed to steal her breath. Instead of skin, he had a rough armoured hide, and the staff he carried in his left hand was more than just a symbol of his office.

He too seemed to glance about the room as he entered. He stood straight and tall, and walked with purpose, as if he were walking into his own throne room. Marianne narrowed her eyes, wondering what the old cockroach might be up to when her father’s elbow stabbed her sharply in the side. Marianne regained her regal stance, and shook the thought from her head, there was no reason to be suspicious of the forest fae. While they could hardly be called allies, they were not enemies, the truce would prevail. 

“Dagda!” the Glen King called out, as he approached the dais, “well met this Lammas!”

“Well met Glen King!” Dagda replied, stepping forward and the two fae gipped each other’s forearms.

The Glen King joined them on the dais.

“Glen, may I have the pleasure of officially introducing you to my daughter and heir, Princess Marianne of the Light Fields.”

It wasn’t every day Marianne heard her full title, but she could hear the pride in her father’s voice. She dropped into a polite curtsey.  

Like Marianne, the Glen King had seen the princess before, usually from afar. He had heard of her differences but it wasn’t until now he saw for himself. She was not fair by the standards of the Light Fields, but she had beauty in her strength. Yes he could see now how the boy could become so enamoured of her.

“The pleasure is mine, Ah assure you” the Glen King said, taking the princesses dainty hand in his clawed one and bringing it to his lips. If he noticed the small callouses on her fingers from her sword practice he gave no sign.

The thorns on his chin bit into the back of her hand, as his autumn dry lips brushed against her knuckles. His voice was greasy sounding and it made her want to shiver in revulsion. Marianne wanted nothing more than to pull her hand from his grasp. 

Indeed when Marianne was once more in possession of her hand she noticed two drops of blood had appeared where she had been pricked. She wiped the back of her hand down her long skirt hoping no one would notice.

The music started and all at once it seemed everyone was dancing.

“I hope you’re not too old to have a dance with your father?” Dagda asked, offering his daughter his arm.

Marianne smiled at him fondly, and went to accept when the Glen King intervened.

“Actually Dagda, I had hoped the princess would do me the honour of joining me for the first dance this evening.”

Marianne felt herself go cold. Dancing with her father she could handle, but the neighbouring king repulsed her. It wasn’t his appearance, per se, but more like his whole mannerisms. There seemed to be a motive behind every flick of his wrist. She wanted to shiver at the thought of him touching her in any capacity, let alone the intimacy of a dance. 

Marianne could feel her father glaring at her, she had been silent far too long, her delayed response boarding on rude.

“Yes, of course, Your Majesty” Marianne said, catching her breath, and performing another curtsey. 

She did not want to become solely responsible for starting a war simply for refusing a dance.  

The Glen King led her onto the dance floor, and pushed his way through the crowd, guests had to stop and move out of their way. He was making sure they were seen together. Marianne felt as though she was going to be sick when he placed his dangerously clawed hand to the small of her back, and she thinks of how she’s never had to worry about a dance partner tearing her dress before. 

“Relax” he hissed in her ear, and then they moved.

He twirled her around the room as expertly as any fairy could, with both grace and stamina. She looked up to his face only to find him staring straight ahead. Marianne noticed how blue his eyes were, and it surprised her that the dark and brooding king should have eyes the colour of the sky. Only they’re not, she finds his eyes are the cold blue of winter; they are hard eyes with no love in them.

Marianne remembers hearing a story once, when she was small, about how the king of the Dark Forest fell in love with a mortal woman. Marianne thinks it must have been some previous king. 

“You seem distracted” his voice was in her ear once more, and Marianne has lost count of the number of dances they had shared.

“I hope I have not kept ye from dancing with a more _desirable_ partner, dearie. Were ye, perhaps, waiting for someone else to ask ye to dance?”

The Glen King’s voice is smooth, but like oil and Marianne is horrified to realise she had forgotten about Bog! Marianne glanced about the room, her heart beating at a frantic pace. Her eyes widen and Marianne can’t stop the smile that blooms out of joy when she catches sight of a figure she is sure is Bog.

He-oh _wow_ \- he looked like a fairy! He had the ears and wings and-

A cold hard voice cut through her thoughts, “Ah, so there is someone.”  

***

After everyone else had left Roland snuck his way back down to the dungeons. He shivered in revulsion. What an odious place. Roland had no qualms about his traitorous alliance with the Glen King, as long as everything worked out they would both get what they wanted. Roland's lips curved up in a smile but had anyone been there to see him, smiling there in the shadows, they would have said it looked more like a sneer.

Roland didn’t fully understand the Glen King’s plan, he just knew if everything went his way he would be King of the Fields. Who cared about some old rubbish prophecy? Roland balked, who would ever believe that the King of the Dark Forest believed in some kiddie tale.

Roland approached the glowing grate in the floor where they were keeping the imprisoned sprite hostage. He could hear sniffling. The damn thing was crying, HA!

“Who, who’s there?” Sugar Plum asked through her sobs.

Roland covered his mouth in shock, he had actually “ha’d” out loud.

Roland jumped down into the pit where they were keeping Sugar Plum.

“Oh, it’s you” she said with utter disdain. She folded her arms over her chest and turned her nose up at him. 

The fairy knight had caught her off guard, coming up behind her as she waited for the princess’ human friend. What was the Glen King thinking?

“Now now darlin’, don’t be cross with me, I was just followin’ orders” Roland placated.

Sugar Plum turned back to look at him with narrowed eyes, arms still crossed.   

“You are a traitor to your king, you know that? And when Dadga finds out, you’re finished.”

Roland gave a little chuckle that held no real mirth, “isn’t it a shame then darlin’ you won’t be able to tell him.”

Roland decided to turn on the charm, if he knew anything about women it was that they liked to be flattered.  

“Everyone knows you’re the best, darlin’” Roland said, offering her his biggest, brightest smile.

Sugar Plum still eyed the fairy knight suspiciously. There was something about him that seemed familiar.  She wondered what he was getting out of this deal with the Glen King.

“I want you to make me a love potion” Roland demanded, his voice sickly-sweet.

“A love potion?” Sugar Plum ask. No one had made a love potion for hundreds of years, not since the time of Titania and Oberon. It wasn’t strictly _forbidden_ but Puck had certainly ruined it for everyone by mixing up the mortals he was supposed to love dust.

“I bet if anyone could make one, it’d be _you_ ” Roland said, laying his praise, and accent on thick.

What did she have to lose? For the foreseeable future Plum knew she was stuck in this dungeon cell, inside the snare.  

“Well, I would need a primrose petal” Sugar Plum explained, secretly hoping one would prove difficult to find, so late in the season.

Roland’s face split into a wicked grin. He reached behind his back and pulled out a tightly folded silken petal of bright pink.

“Funny you should say that darlin’, I just so happen to have, a primrose petal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time actually writing Roland as the active villain in a story and I'm already having so much fun with it! He's a dunce, but an evil dunce...


	6. 5:The Way You Look Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bog makes it to the fairy ball.  
> The Glen King's plan is going better than he had hoped.

The trek to the bolder/ faery palace was longer than it looked. It felt wonderful for Bog to take to the air but he tired easily from the unfamiliar exhaustion, and had to stop frequently. When he did make it to the bolder Bog had no idea how he was supposed to gain entry. A soft yellow light emitted from squares carved out of the rock that Bog realised were windows, and many of them had neat little balcony’s attached to them. After circling the palace it wasn’t difficult to see which balcony was attached to the ballroom, it was the largest one by far. The doors were opened wide and a jaunty tune was coming through and escaping out into the night. It was funny, and a little strange, but a spike of joy went through Bog at the thought of sneaking into Marianne’s fancy party. A grin split his face as he flew straight up to the balcony. He landed rather less gracefully than he had hoped but there was no one to observe him. 

It wasn’t hard to pick out Marianne, even if she hadn’t been the princess, and wearing a dainty crown. Amidst the pinks, yellows, and oranges, she was the only fairy there in a gown of purple. Her eye makeup was done slightly darker than all the others, and Bog could finally see for himself how different from the rest of her race she was. Bog couldn’t have taken his eyes off of her if he wanted to. He had to put his hand over his heart for fear it would burst right out of his chest. _Beautiful_ didn’t even begin to cover how she looked.  

She was dancing with a creature who was very much _not_ a fairy. In place of soft skin like that of the Fey it had a natural looking armour-plated hide. Bog felt the moment Marianne noticed him. Her eyes went wide and shimmery, and a smile lit up her face. He expected to hear a record scratch and the music would stop playing, all eyes would turn to him and he’d be outed for the intruder that he was, but that didn’t happen. The music played on. The Fey around him continued to eat, dance, and be merry.

Bog took a steadying breath and began to slowly walk towards Marianne. Again he waited for something to happen, for the glamour to fall away, for one of the Fey to call him out. All too soon he found himself standing in front of Marianne, and while she was petite for her race they were at least in the same proportion category. He was taller than her only because he was tall, not because he was a giant. 

“Hi” he exhaled, releasing his held breath. 

Marianne had been unable to look at anything else as Bog had walked towards her. It had seemed to take forever for him to cross the space of the ballroom. The Sugar Plum Fairy had really outdone herself, Marianne thought, inspecting the way Bog moved. She looked for any flaw in the glamour only to find none. He was perfect. He heart jumped in her chest at the thought. She pales for a moment realising Bog’s first test will be against the Glen King. If anyone in either court could spot a glamour it would be him.

Marianne feels like she can’t breathe until Bog is finally standing right in front of her.

“Hi” she replied, looking up at Bog through her lashes.

Her heart patters hard in her chest, and Marianne isn’t sure what’s wrong with her. Her hands have gone clammy, and her mouth dry. She needs a dink. 

Bog is looking at her equally enraptured. The details of her petal dress fascinate him. For a flicker of a moment he wonders how one would get such a garment off.  

They both snap out of their haze when the Glen King clears his throat.  

Marianne and Bog both turn to look at the King. Marianne flushes a hot red before going very pale, she had forgotten about him.

“An’ who dearie, is this charming young man who has captured your attention?” he asked, turning to Marianne, a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes.

Marianne finds her voice, “forgive me Your Majesty, for not introducing my friend, Bog. Bog, may I present the King of the Dark Forest.”

The King’s eyes flashed when they turn to him, and Bog has a flashback to glowing blue eyes under a hooded cloak. He bends at the waist, never having had to bow before royalty before. The sharp eyed King simply inclines his head.  

“Well met, Bog” the king said.

“Er, well met.” Bog echoed, unfamiliar with the greeting. 

“Ah, know when Ah am no longer required,” the king turned and inclined his head to Marianne in a departing gesture, “have a pleasant evening, dearies.”

“I’m so sorry about that” Marianne said, awkwardly biting her lip, as the Glen King walked away.   

“Yeah” Bog scratched at the back of his neck as he watched the retreating form of the king disappear into the crowd. There was something familiar in the way he gripped his staff.

“You, you look good” Marianne said, raking her eyes over his form once more.   

The comment was inadequate. It didn’t begin to cover how she thought he looked.

“Ah, so do you” Bog said, still unable to find the words to express the effect her appearance had on him.

They both blushed furiously and turned their heads so the other wouldn’t see.

Marianne’s mind was still working overtime, _he’s my size_ , she thought over and over again.  Every detail of Bog was perfect. From the tip of his ears, to the flower petal tunic he wore. Even his boots were not so different from the type she usually wore. Marianne longed to touch his ears, run her finger up along the ridge right to the tip. It was an incredibly intimate gesture between fairies. 

“Would you like me to show you around?” Marianne asked eager to be moving. 

She was practically vibrating with excitement. Her wings kept twitching as she longed to spread them wide. Perhaps after some refreshments she would suggest to Bog they go for a fly. She sighed inwardly, how romantic, a moon-lit night flight. It was like something straight out of one of Dawn’s cheesy romance tales. 

“Ah, sure” Bog said, he was so nervous, Even though he was miniature; he was still heads taller than most of the Fey and felt as though he stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Great!” Marianne took him by the hand and led him through the crowd to a buffet style table.

The table was piled high with honey comb, fruits, and nuts. 

Bog’s stomach grumbled at the spread of less-than-filling food.

“Er, looks great” he said grinning.

Marianne giggled playfully at the noise that Bog’s stomach made.

“Don’t worry” Marianne said, as she picked up a piece of tree bark and began piling berries on it like a plate, “you’re fairy sized now, so fairy sized food should fill you.”

She smiled up at him, she really hadn’t stopped smiling since she caught sight of him. Marianne wasn’t sure what this tingling feeling was that had come over her.  

“If you say so, _Princess_ ” Bog said with a playful growl as he copied Marianne.

***

Unknown to the happy pair they were being watched.  

The Glen King had made his way back to the dais where he rejoined Dagda. He sat in the ceremonial throne provided for him but was unable to relax. Everything had to be perfect. The old fool didn’t have a clue, and Glen wanted to keep it that way.

He cleared his throat experimentally, hoping to pull Dagda’s attention away from his food plate.

“Ah, it seems someone has caught the eye of your fair daughter a’lass Dagda” Glen said, keeping his voice smooth and even, verging on disinterested. 

“What! Who?” Dagda asked, sitting up in his throne a little straighter.  

He had longed for this day, when his eldest daughter would allow love into her life once more. It made him sad to see her alone. He just wanted her to have the same love and happiness he had shared with his wife. 

Dagda’s eyes swept the party until they found Marianne. She had always stuck out in a crowd, being a princess did that, but she was also a unique girl. Marianne had always been different. Dagda’s interest slipped some when he realised the young man who attended Marianne was not Roland as he had hoped. In fact he didn’t recognize the Fey as belonging to any noble family that he knew of. He was strange looking with his combination of pale fairy skin, a sign of nobility, and his swept back black hair. 

He wondered for a moment if Glen knew something he didn’t about the boy’s origins. Word he knew had reached the Dark Forest of Marianne’s canceled wedding. What would the Glen King care who Marianne married? To his knowledge the Dark Forest had no other Fey Kingdom alliances that would prove fruitful to them should Marianne make a union with them. Unless-

Dagda shuddered at the thought, unless Glen wanted a more direct union. It was a pity the Glen King had never married, Dagda might have considered a marriage between their children if for nothing else than to prove the truce held strong.   

Marianne was smiling at her companion, a real smile Dagda noticed, one that  reached her eyes and made them sparkle with the light of, if not love at least admiration. His old heart skipped a beat. Had Marianne truly found someone to rule beside her? Had she marked this man as he equal? 

“She looks happy” Dagda said aloud, and though his voice choked on a sob and unshod tears reached his eyes the Glen King made no further comment.

Things were going even better than he had hoped.

***

Marianne nibbled on a raspberry as she and Bog sat and talked. Her wings kept twitching with a nervous energy and she was sure he was suffering from the same idleness when her sister found them.

“Marianne I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Dawn said, nearly flying into her sister.

“I” Dawn began to address her sister but then caught sight of Bog.

“Hi, I’m Dawn” she said extending her hand, her voice light and chipper.

“Bog” he replied.

“oh _my_ stars, you’re _the_ human?” Dawn said altogether in a hushed whisper.

“Shh, Dawn!” Marianne half scolded and looked around the room to make sure no one had picked up on Dawn’s little freak out. 

Marianne found herself trapped in the piercing blue gaze of the Glen King, for one terrifying second of her life she was sure that he knew, but then he averted his gaze and she could breathe again.

“I think we’re going to stretch our wings” Marianne said, standing up.

“Aye, good idea, good idea” Bog said standing as well.

His back was stiff from sitting and he bet anything his wings would need the exercise as well.

“Oh, ok, well, be careful!” Dawn said smiling brightly. 

“Have fun, but not too much fun” she called after them, and Marianne felt her face warm.

Marianne led Bog through the crowd once more and out onto the same balcony where he had entered. Free of the chaos inside Marianne at last let her twitching wings stretch to their fullest. 

Bog’s eyes went wide and he was rendered speechless at the sight. Her back was to him and the light of the full moon was shining down, directly through her wings making them appear ethereal. Everything she did just made her more beautiful in his eyes.

“Ready?” she asked, turning to look at him over her shoulder.

“Yeah” Bog agreed dreamily, opening his own wings to prepare for flight.

It felt good to stretch them again. 

Bog did a full body stretch, twisting his back and neck in the process.

Marianne suffered a similar reaction to Bog as he had to her. Her mouth went dry at the sight of his wings fully open and a pleasant tingle made its way through her body at the sound of his body cracking.  

Marianne stepped up onto the lip of the railing, “race to the edge of the forest?” Marianne asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“Oooh, yer on, tough girl,” Bog goaded, stepping up to stand beside her.

Marianne leaned close to him, and lowered her eyelids, “than catch me if you can” she whispered seductively, just before she twirled and let herself fall backwards off the railing.

Bog was delayed by a second before following after her, her voice had affected him more than he cared to admit.

It was fortunate that the pair left when they did, and missed what happened next at the party.

They were too busy thinking of only each other and flying off into the moonlit night.


	7. 6: If They Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roland's plans are falling apart.  
> Marianne and Bog are falling in love.

Roland swaggered into the party with an easy confidence. Grateful to be out of the dank and gloom of the Dark Forest; he shuddered at the memory. Roland flashed his charming smile around the room and waved graciously to those who knew him. These were his people! A fairy maid with dark brown curls and eyes like melted chocolate brought him a cup of wine; another brought him a bark platter with a mixture of fruit and nuts on it. Yessirre, this was the life and hell he wasn’t even king, yet. Roland patted the concealed bottle of love potion fondly. _Tonight, she will love me_ , he thought. His smile twisted into something darker.

Now, just to find the little buttercup! Roland narrowed his eyes and scanned the party for the unmistakeable wings of the eldest princess. His smile wavered into a frown when he didn’t see them.  He searched again. His eyes found Princess Dawn, and her Elf friend, Sammy. He shuddered, it was unnatural for a princess to be such good friends with a peasant, let-alone an Elf; when he became king that kind of thing would have to stop. Roland found his three lackeys in amongst the crowd and made a b-line for them. 

“Where is Princess Marianne?” Roland growled, they had had a plan.

The three Fey jumped, startled by Roland’s sudden appearance. They had hoped he had changed his mind about trying to win back the princess’ favour. When Roland had missed the beginning of the ball they had let their guard down, relaxed a bit and actually enjoyed themselves for a change. With Roland’s sudden reappearance they were back on duty.

“Oh, she left” one of the peons said.

“Left?” Roland asked, confused, “where did she go, her rooms?”

A new plan was already starting to form in Roland’s mind, if he found her alone in her rooms it would be much easier to-

“No, she went outside” another amended, jerking his thumb at the balcony.

“Alone?” Roland asked, astonished.

“No, she was with some guy.” 

“What guy?” Roland asked, confused.

Princess Marianne didn’t hang out with guys. It was one of the many signs that led Roland to believe she was simply waiting for him to make a big public display to win back her affection. Unless, had she been going to try to make him jealous? And he missed it? Oh, poor Marianne off with some guy she didn’t even like, and all because he had arrived to the party late. The horror!

There was no doubt in Roland’s mind that Marianne would be his once more. The potion bottle felt heavy on his hip. He frowned, well maybe a _little_ doubt, but nothing that the Sugar Plum’s magic couldn’t fix.  He was confident Marianne just needed a nudge back in the right direction.

Roland could feel the weight of the Glen King’s glare at his back, but he ignored it. He couldn’t risk Glen finding out about the love potion. The Glen King may have some grand scheme he was trying to pull off but Roland’s was much simpler. He couldn’t wait for some prophecy that may or may not come to pass. He wanted to be king and he wanted to be king now!

***

Marianne couldn’t believe how brazen she had been. Spreading her wings thoughtlessly like that in front of Bog. She had taken a secret joy in knowing Bog was unfamiliar with fairy etiquette. Safe in the knowledge that he wouldn’t know the gesture meant she was willing to _engage_ with him, that she had opened them for him. She had wanted to open them for him the moment their eyes had met across the ballroom. Marianne’s heart had fluttered at Bog’s intake of breath; apparently the sight of her open wings had affected him, even without a Fey upbringing. 

 She was in for her own surprise when she turned her head to taunt him and caught sight of his own wings open and catching the moonlight. Indecent didn’t begin to describe how that single act affected her. It was a complement and an offering all in one. Wings were like another limb for fairies in that they used them to communicate. A twitch of a wing while talking was as natural as a flick of your wrist. If Bog had been Fey born, the things his wings were telling her now, Marianne blushed at the thought.

Falling was a thrilling rush. Laughter bubbled up through her as Marianne plunged from the balcony and came dangerously close to the ground before she pulled level. Bog was barley a wing beat behind her. He had a cocky grin on his face, one that made her heart skip a beat. She flashed him an answering grin and put on a burst of speed the same time he did.

They raced across the open fields, twirling and summersaulting through the air. They dived dangerously before shooting up again. They were neck-in-neck and approaching the boarder of the forest when Bog suddenly wasn’t beside her anymore. 

“Bog?” Marianne asked the open air, she did a spin mid-air looking all around until she found him. 

Bog was hovering over a pond where in the moonlight he had caught sight of his reflection for the first time. 

“Bog, what is it?” Marianne asked softly, beside him suddenly.

“Is, is that really what Ah look like?” he asked, confusion marred his brow.

Marianne looked between the real Bog beside her and the one reflect on the ponds surface.

“Yes Bog, it really is. You don’t look so different from your human self” Marianne protested when Bog’s face fell.

His features were leaner as a fairy sure, but the magic had only worked with what was already there. If Marianne hadn’t known better she would have thought Bog part Fey even in his human form. The angled jaw, his sharp nose and high cheeks, even the blue of his eyes had something magical about them. She wondered if that was part of the reason she had been so attracted to him in the first place. Marianne felt her face heat at the thought. After Roland had broken her heart Marianne how vowed never to fall in love again, but love had a funny way of sneaking back in. To think she might be falling in love with a human, she smiled shyly, would her father live through the scandal?  

“I think you’re perfect” Marianne said, barely above a whisper, echoing her thoughts from earlier.

Bog turned his head so quickly she heard his neck crack. 

“You do?” he asked in earnest.

Marianne slipped her hand into his and blushed even harder, _they were holding hands!_  

“I do, as a human, or well, like this” Marianne looked him up and down once more.

Bog’s hand tightened around hers. He liked being able to hold her in his hand, but he liked being able to actually hold her hand even better.  

“Oh” he said, voice small.

He was blushing too Marianne noticed. 

Bog was finding it a little difficult to believe that Marianne would be as attracted to him in his human form as she was to his current Fey-self. The reflection he saw was actually quite handsome. He had been transformed into a handsome Fairy-Prince type and yet Marianne claimed to see no difference between this and his ugly human-self. 

Marianne noticed how morose Bog had become suddenly.

“Hey, are we still racing or not?” she teased, playfully nudging his arm with her shoulder.

In a moment of boldness Marianne leaned up and pecked Bog on the cheek before flying off once more.

The kiss seemed to break Bog out of his slump and he pursued her with new vigor. 

Marianne reached the forests edge only a wingbeat before Bog.

Unable to stop as expertly as Marianne, Bog accidently knocked into her upon his fumbled landing and sent the two of them tumbling over the border and into the Dark Forest.  

Marianne was laughing, a bubbly joyous sound that was infectious and had Bog chuckling. 

When they finally came to a stop they were all tangled up together. Marianne’s hair was a mess, sticking up at odd angles and full of leaves. Bog’s own hair which had been slicked back by the magic transformation had also suffered and a stray lock now hung down into his eyes. They had ended their roll in a half sitting up position that had placed Marianne in Bog’s lap.

Marianne’s dress had lost most of its longer petals that made up the skirt but revealed a layer of shorter ones underneath. Bog’s hand accidentally brushed against her now bare thigh causing Marianne to shiver involuntarily.  Bog suddenly had the incredibly strong urge to reach out and cup Marianne’s chin, or to run his thumb along her ear. He lifted his hand from her thigh but stopped the action midway, he was afraid the touch would be unwelcome. Instead he offered her his hand and helped her to her feet.

“Where are we?” he asked with mild wonder, looking around.

He was sure they had only fallen into the strip of woods between his mother’s property and Glen Dell’s farm, a path he had walked through almost daily this summer, but the plants around him now seemed foreign.   

Marianne knew her face must be red but she didn’t let go of Bog’s hand. She looked around and a huge smile broke out across her face, lighting up her eyes.

“We’re in the Dark Forest!” she exclaimed, and the look on her face was pure joy.

“I’ve always wanted to explore the Dark Forest, but we’re really not supposed to be here.” Marianne said, loosing some of her excitement as he voice trailed off.

Bog looked over at Marianne, who was frowning.   

“Hey, try thinking of this as an adventure” Bog encouraged, “tough girl” he added nudging her arm the way she had his.

He smiled down at her and Marianne looked up at him, returning the smile.  

What was the harm of a little moonlit flight through the Dark Forest, Marianne thought. The Glen King was back at the Lammas Ball, so there was no danger of being caught. She was here with Bog, and Marianne wanted to enjoy every minute of that.

As one they lifted off the forest floor, still holding hands they began to explore the Kingdom of the Dark Forest.


End file.
